


Top of the dog pile

by AvaJune



Series: Of Wolves and Dogs [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cussing, Dark Sansa, Explicit Sexual Content, Plotting, Power Couple, Ramsay wants nice things too, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 21:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12044367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaJune/pseuds/AvaJune
Summary: Sansa and Ramsay continue with their plans to rule the north, starting with dealing with Roose and the birth of Ramsay's half brother.Note: Highly recommend reading all the parts of this series in order. Otherwise, it may not make sense.





	Top of the dog pile

Time passed quickly in Winterfell. Sansa had moved her pieces well. While the Northern Houses despised House Bolton for their betrayal of the Starks, Sansa quickly laid down a firm line between Roose and Ramsay in the stories told amongst the men. She always accompanied Ramsay when the Lords had a meeting of any kind, even for a brief time to make apparent her love and faith in her husband before gracefully departing. Contrastingly, she was always very formal and somewhat sad when addressing Roose in public, manipulating her body into barely there flinches when he said her name or touched her in any way. 

The Northern Houses respected Sansa, even as a woman, as they had done Catelyn Stark before her. Her apparent faith in her husband made the Lords re-access their beliefs, just as she planned for them to. It had to be done quietly, subtly. She made sure that they thought that this was their own idea, that they were being perceptive. They began to wonder if perhaps House Bolton was not the problem, but rather Roose was. Frankly, she was proud of how well she was moving them where she needed them. They were good and honest men, and those with honor were so easily manipulated. She would never harm those who clung to their morals as their foundation, it was admirable.However, she also would not shy from the chance to put them where they could do the most good to aide in her in reaching her goals, if need be.

Sansa was relaxing in a hot bath, eyes closed with the water steaming around her, when the door to their bedchambers flew open and slammed shut with a bang. She sat up and watched Ramsay stalk in, rage and the need to kick something (or someone) apparent in his features. His head turned on a swivel to her in the bath and his eyes narrowed. Without a word, she stood from the bath and stepped out, naked and dripping on the floor. It was freezing in Winterfell and while the fire burned hot, it was not a enough to keep the chill at bay. Never the less, she walked towards her husband across the icy floor until she stood in front of him and met his eyes, blue meeting blue. 

He was panting in anger, his chest heaving as his gaze flickered over her form. And then something else, something more primal, flooded his features with dark lust. Sansa said nothing, but ever so slowly she sunk to her knees on the stone, offering whatever he needed. She trusted him, knew she could. Ramsay would take things from others, hurt others, but not his wife. He would only take what she gave freely, and in return, she gave him everything. Ramsay's life had been so fraught with circumstances beyond his control, insecurity and uncertainty because of who he was born to, who the Boltons were. Sansa had plans, she had ambitions, and part of those involved giving her husband whatever he needed to be the best version of himself. She didn't need things this way, the way he did, but she liked it. She liked it A LOT.

His hand reached out and gently carressed her hair, rubbing a thumb lightly across her cheekbone. She leaned into his touch, sighing lightly. She focused her body on his touch, brought her entire focus there, in an effort to ignore the painful cold seeping into her. Her eyes fluttered open when he spoke to her, in a voice quiet and yet full of authority.

"Stand," he said. So Sansa stood, and waited as he circled her. He seemed to being taking her whole body in, reveling in the calm before the storm he would bring. He reached out for her hand, pulling her towards the bed. Ramsay sat her down on the edge before turning her back to him and gently pushing her down. She rested on her back, her long hair sweeping the floor as her head dangled slightly off the edge. He looked down at his wife, his thighs settled on either side of her head, before undoing the laces to his breeches. He pulled his tunic over his head and pulled his breeches to his mid thigh. Sansa smiled up at him, her grin a little wicked and dirty now that she realized what he was about to do. He smiled back at her, affection mixing with the rage and lust in the pools of blue. 

"Open your mouth," he ordered. "Take a deep breath, relax your throat." She opened her mouth, swallowing preemptively in an attempt to make him go in as easily as possible. He started towards her, but pulled back at the last momement before she could quite reach to lick him. She frowned instinctively, earning her a harsh tweak to her nipple.

"I said open," he growled at her. She whimpered but obeyed, opening her mouth once more.

"Do you want my cock, Sansa?" he asked, still keeping the head just out of her reach. Since she couldn't close her mouth to speak, she nodded, whimpering a little more in frustration.

"But then why, oh why, would you close your mouth?" he said, wagging his finger at her as if she was a naughty child. "No, I think you'll have to earn it."

He brought his middle and pointer finger to her mouth. Her lips closed around them automatically. "That's it, Love," he told her. "Show me how you want to suck me."

She moaned lightly and began to work his fingers as a preview to her plans when he finally pushed his way into her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks and ran her tongue along the digits. His dick was significantly bigger than his fingers, but she didn't mind so much. She liked how his breath hitched slightly as he pictured what was coming. Without warning, Ramsay shoved his fingers into her throat, causing her to gag and sputter.

"Relax," he reminded her as her eyes teared up and she choked. Trying to do as he said, she loosened her gag reflex as much as she could and let his fingers abuse the back of her mouth. Her throat would be sore before he even really started, and he knew that, a small punishment for closing her mouth.

"You're listen so well now, darling," he praised her, bringing a smile to her face once he took his fingers out. "Now, open up and brace yourself, little dove. I'm going to fuck your mouth and you're going to lay there and take it like a good little wife."

Sansa nodded and stuck her tongue out slightly, ready for whatever he decided to give her. At first, he thrust into her mouth shallowly, growling and praising her for how well she always took him. Before long, he was pushing into her throat slightly, making her gag a little bit, but it left her wanting more. She braced her hands on his thighs and fought not to pull her against her harder. 

He pulled out so that only his head was past her lips and she swirled her tongue around him, reaching up to gently squeeze his sack. Ramsay moaned and smiled wickedly down at her. "By the old gods and the new: Sansa, you have the prettiest mouth in all the seven kingdoms. It's even prettier wrapped around my cock."

She hummed happily, earning another throaty moan. Without warning he pushed himself into her throat to the hilt, causing her to gasp and sputter as she fought not to gag. He pulled out slowly and plunged back in, giving her no time to brace herself. Ramsay pounded against the back of her mouth, over and over, groaning at the sensation. Sansa met his groans with her own, causing him to delight in the vibration that ran through him as she hummed her pleasure. 

Every time he sheathed himself completely, his cock completely eclipsed the back of her throat, making it impossible to breathe. After a minute she was sucking in wet, desperate breaths through her nose every time he moved back just enough to allow her a little oxygen. His pace had her quickly feeling light headed from the lack of air. It wasn't quite as good as his hand wrapped around her throat, but it was still a lovely burn. 

"Fuck, Little Dove," he growled. "I love watching the outline of my cock slide down that pretty little neck of yours. Such a...FUCK...such a good little wife."

He was quickly nearing his peak, his hips stuttering and pumping harder. Her throat was a vice on his cock, the gagging causing her throat to contract deliciously around him. Her face was streaked with tears where her eyes were watering, but he knew if he stuck a hand between her legs she would be soaked. Her clit, he imagined, would be swollen by now, throbbing at the lack of attention. Her nipples were pebbled and he knew it wasn't just from the cold.

"Lady Bolton," he asked her hoarsely, "the choice is yours, Love. Shall I come down your throat or would you like it better if I came all over your pretty face this time?"

Sansa hummed around him and rubbed sloppily at her throat. "Oh," he chuckled. "You want to swallow me down, little girl?" 

She nodded as best she could, the task significantly more difficult with a very full mouth, waiting for it impatiently.

He grabbed the sides of her face, thrusting roughly between her lips. Ramsay no longer allowed her breathing breaks, chasing his pleasure and ignoring her under him. He knew it wouldn't take long, that she would be fine, but that she would love that he used her this way. For someone who had long conversations with him about not being a fuck toy, she sure seemed to like it when he treated her like one. With a shout, he emptied herself into her willing mouth, watching with fascination as she swallowed around him, drinking his seed like a fine wine. 

He slowly pulled out and looked down at his beautiful wife, her eyes dark and pupils blown. Her tear tracks only made her more fiercely desirable.

"That's a good girl," he told her, collapsing next to her on the bed. She smiled widely at him, licking her lips and looking smug, before walking across the room to clean up her face. Her body was well heated with desire and she found the cold bothered her much less now. 

When she returned, he moved up to the head of the bed and slipped under the furs, holding them open for her to slide in with him. Sansa said nothing, running her hands across the smooth plains of his chest and waited. Ramsay's hand knotted in her hair lightly and pulled her face upwards to meet his eyes as he gazed down at her.

"Father has had a son," he told her, his face tight. "Just this morning."

Sansa held his gaze, but said nothing, waiting for him to explain what he needed.

"He told me that I would always be his firstborn," he scoffed. "He'll have to forgive me for thinking his word isn't good for shit after he explained, in excruciating detail, how he raped my mother under the hanging corpse of her beloved husband."

She raised an eyebrow at him and he frowned. "I'm not a fool, I see the parallels with my own hobbies," he snapped, yanking her hair a little more roughly. "But, it is my MOTHER we're talking about."

"Yes, she is your mother," Sansa said. "And now Walda Frey is a mother as well, to a newborn son. But of all the mothers we will know, the one that will matter the most is me, Ramsay, when I bear your sons and give you heirs to Winterfell. Our children will hold the rights to the north, and no other will deny their claim."

"Unfortunately for my brother, I'm not quite sure he will survive infancy," he said with a wicked grin. "So many children don't." 

"Ramsay...Ramsay look at me," she demanded gently. He brought his attention back to her. "Walda is a kind, albeit stupid woman. Your brother is only the heir SHOULD you die, and there is only one reason he would seek that outcome, and it is not of his own volition, nor at the scheming of his mother." Sansa reached up and ran her hard along his jaw, caressing the stubble there.

"The only person who would create that situation would be your father," she stated bluntly. "And after you were dead, without question, he'd make sure I would follow you to the afterlife, along with any children we had together. All in the name of maintaining his hold on the Northern Houses."

Ramsay smirked. "Sansa Bolton, you might as well be immortal and you know it. No amount of petty scheming will ever fall you."

She smiled sweetly at him, tilting her head to the side slightly as his grip had loosened. "Flattery will get you many places, husband. I wonder if we might talk about other ways you may secure yourself as Warden of the North."

"Alright, alright," Ramsay sighed with exasperation, running his fingers lightly up and down her bare arm. "You think we should kill him. It's not as if I have any real love for the man, he is a total prick. And I know how you hate him."

He gave a borderline girly squeal as a realization hit. "Little Dove, will my killing him be like a present for you?"

She slid her leg over him, straddling his body and kissing him hard. "Tie a ribbon around his severed neck," she whispered in his ear, "and I'll be positively beside myself with Ecstasy."

"And my dear step-mother and baby brother?" Ramsay asked, kneading her breasts in his hands.

She sighed and started rocking her hips. "We watch," she told him. "With any luck, it will be a non-issue. If they intend me or mine harm, we'll do what we need to."

"I quite like this plan, my clever girl," he said with a smile, lifting her hips slightly as to slide his length inside of her. Sansa braced her hands on his chest and resumed rocking.

"Tell me you'll kill him Ramsay," Sansa demanded, breath coming quickly and her heart beating wildly. "Tell me you'll spill his blood as he spilled my family's."

Ramsay reached between them, rubbing at her clit as she rode him. "I will kill him, wife," he told her. "I will kill anyone you ask of me, Lady Bolton."

It didn't take much for her to get there, having spent to much time warming up and being teased. Every promise he made, she felt her pussy squeeze him. The best part was he would keep his promises, at least to her. "Ramsay..." she whined, moving faster now as he grit his teeth.

"You are all that matters, Sansa. I'd burn the world for you. I'd kill them all, my love." He saw each word make her arousal build and he could feel her walls beginning to spasm. He redoubled his efforts, circling her nub hard, until she let out a scream of pleasure and slumped to his chest, breathing heavily. Ramsay bent his knees and used the position to slam up into her before he followed her with a roar of his own.

For a few minutes, they simply lay there and caught their breath. 

"Kill them all, huh?" she said with a chuckle as she settled herself at his side, her cheek resting on his chest. 

"Yes, all of them," he told her softly, pushing her until she faced away from him and tucking her back to his chest. "But not today, woman, so for the love of the gods, lay still and stop twitching against me. Go to sleep. You're gonna make me hard again."

Sansa cackled in a most unladylike fashion before rubbing her naked arse all over his crotch.


End file.
